


Parchment Notes and Night-Time Duels

by Chromatophobe (Pseudorific)



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Harry Potter References, Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudorific/pseuds/Chromatophobe





	Parchment Notes and Night-Time Duels

Thomas rounded the corner at speed with Minho hot at his heels, the two nearly slamming straight into a bewildered third year Hufflepuff girl. Thomas dodged out of the girl’s way, throwing a hasty apology over his shoulder, cursing at himself. McGonagall was going to skin them. They were going to be late. They were going to be really, really late. Minho cursed as well as the two ran at the same pace, their bags flying around wildly on their shoulders.

Voices came from ahead and Thomas stopped himself letting out a cry of joy: McGonagall hadn’t let the class in, he and Minho were safe! They rounded the final corner, stopped a short distance from the door and doubled over, clutching their sides and wheezing. Nobody turned and looked at them. Thomas glanced up when he had his breath to see what was so interesting and saw what was unmistakably Gally pushing and shoving a Gryffindor around, yelling at him. Nobody seemed to step forward, unwilling to take the obnoxious Slytherin on – the boy who had a reputation for dirty duelling. The Gryffindor boy shoved Gally back.

“You’re pathetic, Gally.” The boy spat. “You’re not even worth the effort it’d take to hex you, you slinthead.” The boy turned around and strode away from Gally towards the classroom door. Gally glanced at the friends he had gathered around him, his face red with hot rage.

“Pathetic? I’m pathetic?!” He yelled, whipping out his wand and aiming at the boy’s back.  
Thomas reacted reflexively. Before he knew it, his own wand was out and pointing at Gally and a hot rage filled Thomas, too. He hated Gally’s dirty tactics.

“ _Locomotor Mortis!_ ” Thomas yelled the first thing that came into his mind when Gally levelled his wand at the retreating Gryffindor’s back. There was a flash of purple light and Gally toppled forward when the spell struck him, his legs locked together by the spell. He crashed to the floor, his wand skidding out of his reach.

The Gryffindor boy spun around at Thomas’s yell, a surprised look on his face, his wand coming to his hand somewhat slower than Thomas’s. He looked confusedly between the downed Gally and Thomas. Thomas strode forward, sending a curt nod in the boy’s direction. Gally’s friends looked ready to attack him, but they shrank back when Minho - who had a reputation in duelling just as impressive as Gally’s - advanced with Thomas, his wand ready too. Thomas and Minho stopped when they came to Gally’s side, and Minho kicked the boy onto his back, laughing loudly.

“Thomas got you good, slinthead!” Minho yelled and the others around them laughed at Gally who turned an ugly shade of red in embarrassment. “That’s what you get for backshooting, you shuck coward.”

“Maybe in the future you’ll pick fights with people who can actually defend themselves, slinthead.” Thomas spat down at Gally. Gally blushed an even uglier shade of red bordering on purple before he struggled to his feet with the help of his friends. One of them shoved his wand in his hand and Gally flicked it in the direction of his feet, muttering the counter-curse. He glared up at Thomas and Minho, looking as if he was seriously considering attacking. 

“Try it, I dare you.” Thomas said. “I’ll get Snape to put you in detention for a week cleaning out flobberworm mucus.” Gally blushed in anger again and raised his wand. Minho stepped forward and pulled out his own wand, pointing it into Gally’s face. Gally seemed to reconsider and shrugged it off, stowing his wand away after a moment. He snarled again before he looked at his friends.

“C’mon boys, these blood traitors aren’t worth it.” Gally sneered before he walked off to the back of the long line outside the classroom. Thomas waited until he had gone out of reach before he turned to face the Gryffindor. Minho kept an eye on Gally behind him.

Thomas was greeted with the sight of Professor McGonagall who had strode out of her classroom after all the loud noises, a furious expression on her face. She glanced once between Thomas, holding his wand and looking flushed with anger, and Minho who had his wand and was snarling at Gally down the line and her nostrils flared.

“Duelling in the corridors?” She asked rhetorically, her nostrils flaring again in anger. Thomas flinched and he and Minho hastily stowed their wands away. “How dare you! And against a member of your own house, too! I expect more from you Thomas, considering you’re a Prefect. Five points from Sly--”

“-- Actually, Professor, they were defending me.” The Gryffindor boy spoke up. Thomas and Minho exchanged a look, the pair of them not believing their luck. McGonagall turned and looked at Newt with a raised eyebrow and waited for him to explain. “Y’see, Gally here was harassing me and I walked away. He took his wand out and tried to hex me from behind so Thomas here stopped him.”

McGonagall looked at Newt for a moment before she glanced at Minho and Thomas, gesturing in the direction of Newt.

“This is the truth?” She asked. Thomas and Minho nodded. The anger seemed to fade from her face and she nodded once. “Then no points will be taken - or awarded.” She added, when she saw Minho’s hopeful face. “Duelling, after all, is prohibited in the corridors. Inside now, all of you.”

*****

The lesson proceeded as normal. McGonagall had Gally hand a mouse to each of them and told them all to transform it into a teacup as they had been practicing for the past few lessons. Thomas prodded his mouse with his wand and muttered the incantation and frowned when his mouse only squeaked. Minutes passed and nothing particularly remarkable happened to his mouse.

Minho broke the silence after a minute, exclaiming in joy as he lifted his mouse up in front of Thomas.

“Look at it, Thomas!” He said, almost hitting Thomas in the face with the rodent. The mouse squeaked fearfully. “See?” He pointed to the mouse’s tail. Thomas didn’t see anything.

“What’re you pointing at, Minho?” He asked. Minho sighed in frustration and pointed again at the mouse’s tail.

“It’s shinier than it was before!” Minho said indignantly. Thomas looked closer and found that the tail was a bit shinier than it was and even a bit paler.

“You transfigured its shucking tail into porcelain, you shank.” Thomas said. Minho’s face fell but then he smiled again.

“It’s more than what you’ve done!” Thomas cursed when Minho pointed at Thomas’s own mouse which looked completely as it did before. McGonagall glanced up from her desk and looked at the two of them, her eyes narrowing in anger. They took the hint and stopped arguing, carrying on with their transfiguration work.

Thomas had just raised his wand and was about to attempt to transfigure the mouse once more when a folded aeroplane made of parchment glided down in front of him and landed neatly on his desk. He exchanged a look with Minho. Minho looked pointedly down at the piece of parchment before he prodded his mouse too hard with his wand. The mouse squeaked and scuttled off his desk, running across the classroom and squeaking madly. Minho darted from his desk comically in pursuit of the mouse. The class turned collectively to look at him and watched, laughing, as he chased the mouse around. McGonagall’s nostrils flared as she too watched with increasing irritation.

Thomas, glad for the distraction, tapped the parchment plane with the tip of his wand. The plane unfolded into a neat square of parchment. He glanced at the paper and saw a neat scrawl in one of the corners.

_Thank you for stopping that slinthead Gally from hexing me. I didn’t expect anyone to jump in, least of all a Slytherin. No offence._

Thomas glanced at the note before he reached across his desk and grasped his quill, scribbling a quick reply.

_It was nothing, and none taken. Nobody likes Gally except his group of brain-dead cranks._

Thomas picked up his wand and tapped the parchment with the tip of his wand again. This time the parchment folded up neatly into a plane. Thomas picked it up and blew gently on it and it took off from his hand, gliding over the heads of the oblivious to the back of the classroom where the Gryffindor boy sat.

McGonagall stood up and had evidently had enough. She gave a curt flick of her wand and the mouse Minho was chasing was lifted into the air and landed gently in her waiting palm. Minho ran over and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, holding his hand out for the mouse, muttering a quick thanks to her.

“Maybe next time you will use your brain rather than your muscles in my lesson. Back to work.” She said with a curt nod in the direction of Minho and Thomas’s desk. Minho grinned before he ran over, clutching the mouse that gave an indignant squeak and sat next to Thomas looking pleased with himself.

“You just embarrassed yourself in front of the entire class for a note saying thanks, you shank.” Thomas hissed out of the corner of his mouth, tapping the mouse in front of him gently with his wand. Minho shrugged.

“Better than giving slinthead Gally something to gossip about, you and that Gryffindor sending little love letters to each other.” Minho replied, setting his mouse back on the desk and taking up his wand again. The mouse squeaked.

Thomas and Minho spun around in their seats as a loud bang filled the room and they heard the scraping of a chair. McGonagall darted up out of her seat and strode over to the source. Thomas and Minho stood and grinned when they saw that one of Gally’s friends had been too busy showing off to a Slytherin girl to notice their mouse preparing a running jump on them. Their grins widened when they saw the mouse hanging off the boy’s finger, its teeth sunk deeply into the skin which was bleeding profusely. McGonagall strode over and with a quick flick of her wand the mouse was back on the desk and the boy was being told to say: “I am a wizard, not an idiot with a stick” over and over.

When Thomas turned back around, he saw that the parchment aeroplane had returned and was busy unfolding itself on the desk. He grabbed the parchment and pulled it to him, looking at the new scrawl under his message.

_I’m Newt, by the way. What’s your name?_

Thomas pulled his quill towards him once more and dabbed it in the ink before he scribbled a quick reply, knowing that McGonagall would be done lecturing Gally’s friend soon enough.

_A pleasure to meet you, Newt. I’m Thomas._

He once again tapped the parchment with the tip of his wand and it folded itself back up into an aeroplane shape before it flew off on its own accord to the back of the classroom. McGonagall returned to her desk then and kept a keen eye on the class, and Thomas knew that there was no chance the Gryffindor – Newt – would risk sending another note with her watching.

The bell rang shortly after and McGonagall dismissed them. Thomas gathered his stuff and shoved it haphazardly into his bag which he slung over his shoulder. He strode out of the classroom with Minho at his side, eager to get to the Great Hall for lunch. He glanced at Newt and shot him a small smile when he passed him before he left the room. Newt too hurried and packed his bags before following them, leaving the note behind on the table. Gally strode past after them but stopped, eyeing up the note before he swiped it from the desk and stuffed it in his pocket.

*****

The two exchanged notes for a while after that. Thomas would find a planes and cranes soaring through the air and landing neatly in front of him in the middle of Potions and Transfiguration whenever Snape and McGonagall had their backs turned and even when he was eating in the Great Hall. He’d pass the notes off as reminders when people would ask, and one glance from Minho and they wouldn’t question him.

He learned a lot about the mysterious Gryffindor boy in those weeks. Newt was a half-blood (not that Thomas was concerned with blood purity like a lot of his house) with a younger sister due to start Hogwarts in a few years and a mother and father who worked for the Ministry. He liked Quidditch and preferred playing Seeker than the other positions, and that his father had managed to secure tickets for the Quidditch World Cup the following year.

Minho kept pointing out to Thomas that he’d caught Newt looking at him in corridors and classes, throwing sly glances when he thought they were looking. Thomas never saw it himself: every time he looked Newt was either looking in a completely different direction or he had his head buried in a book. He was surprised the boy wasn’t in Ravenclaw with how often he saw the boy’s blond locks hidden behind a dusty leather cover of a book. The two of them also kept a wary eye out for a vengeful Gally, but Thomas figured as long as he had the advantage of numbers – and Minho – that Gally wouldn’t try anything.

The notes stopped for a while then, and Thomas wondered if he’d said something that had offended the Gryffindor boy. Whenever he turned around to look, the boy would always be busy working or reading a book in front of him or even chatting to his fellow Gryffindors. Thomas shook his head and tried to focus on his own work, but he had a nagging feeling he’d upset the boy.

Then, one day in the Great Hall when Thomas and Minho were eating breakfast, a parchment crane flapped onto the table and landed smoothly in front of him. Thomas looked at Minho and Minho rolled his eyes. Gally looked up from down the table and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Well go on then, shank.” Minho said, eagerly savaging a piece of toast. “It might be another letter from lover boy.” Thomas rolled his eyes and prodded the crane with the tip of his wand.

The crane unfolded in front of him and Thomas picked up the piece of paper, reading the familiar neat scrawl in the corner.

_Meet me in the Trophy Room at 11pm tonight._

Thomas frowned and furrowed his brows. Minho looked up from his ravaged piece of toast and cereal and glanced at the note, chewing loudly.

“Wonder what he wants?” Thomas thought aloud as he scribbled a quick reply. _Sure, see you then._ Minho choked down a bite of toast. Thomas tapped the parchment with his wand once more and it folded back up into a crane and flapped off. Thomas turned to Minho immediately after.

“Dunno,” Minho managed to choke out with toast still in his mouth, threatening to spill out, “A private little chat with nobody else? I didn’t think the shank was the romantic type.”

Thomas flinched away from Minho and his mouth full of food.

“Slim it when you’re eating Minho, that’s disgusting.” He said. Minho grinned then, a big mistake as cereal dribbled out from between his teeth. Thomas gagged and turned away while Minho swallowed and laughed.

*****

Thomas left the common room at 10:30 that night in his pyjamas and school cloak, his wand stowed in his pocket, leaving Minho in one of the comfy green armchairs by the fire. He made his way to the Trophy Room quickly but quietly, knowing that if he got caught detention would be the least of his worries what with being a Prefect. He paused when he arrived at the door of the Trophy Room and tapped it with his wand.

“Homenum Revelio.” He muttered. Nothing happened. Thomas frowned and then pulled the door open quietly, stepping into the room. He made his way fairly quickly down the staircase before he stood in the centre of the room, shiny trophies adorning every wall and every surface, with shields scattered among them.

He spent some time looking at the various trophies and awards lining the walls while he waited. He wasn’t waiting long until he hears a set of footsteps coming down the stairs behind him. He turned, ready to greet Newt but saw Gally instead. Thomas blinked in surprise and then saw that Gally had his wand out, pointed straight at Thomas’s face. Thomas reflexively moved his hand towards his pocket to pull out his own wand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Gally said. “I’ll hex you before you even get it out.”

Thomas cursed. Gally was right - he’d hex him before he could get his wand out for certain. He cursed his luck. If Minho had been here, he wouldn’t have this problem. How had Gally known he was coming here? As if reading his mind, Gally answered.

“I sent the note, slinthead.” He said, his wand still raised. “I took that note he sent you in Transfiguration when you cursed me, didn’t take much to copy his handwriting.”

“So, what? You lure me here to hex me? You really are pathetic.” Thomas spat, his hand moving painfully slowly towards his pocket, trying not to let Gally know what he was doing. If he could just keep him talking…

“What, you expect me to fight fair when you have that shank Minho at your side 24/7? No thanks.” Gally laughed. “It’s about damn time I got payback after that little stunt you pulled outside McGonagall’s classroom.”

Thomas grinned. “You fell on your ass pretty damn hard. I knew you were brain dead but Christ Gally, did you hit your head too?” He laughed and Gally twitched, tightening his grip on his wand.

“Enough!” He yelled viciously, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “Minho isn’t here to protect you any more, I’m going to enjoy this.”

Gally raised his wand then. He opened his mouth but was cut off before he could so much as utter a syllable when something large, heavy and metallic slammed into the side of his head. Gally was knocked sideways and onto a row of heavy silver trophies which clamoured noisily when hit them, and lay motionless, his wand flung from his hand and onto the floor several feet away.

“Shuck, that was bloody louder than I expected!” Thomas turned to look at the staircase leading up and was surprised to see Newt standing there, his wand raised and pointing at Gally, a scrunched up parchment note held in his free hand. He glanced from Gally’s unconscious form to Thomas and raised an eyebrow when Thomas laughed. “I take it you didn’t write this bloody note then?”

Thomas shook his head. “Gally did, by the looks of it. Tried to lure us here one by one to hex us, the slinthead.”

Newt inclined his head. “Sounds like Gally, the sly shank.”

The two froze as a creak came from overhead and they glance up at the ceiling before they exchanged a fearful look. Someone had definitely heard the crash of the trophies. Newt glanced at the ceiling again.

“That definitely didn’t go unnoticed.” He said, flicking his wand in the direction of Gally. Thomas nodded in agreement. Newt half turned and gestured to the stairs. “Shall we?” Thomas nodded again before he followed. They paused at the top of the staircase and Newt flicked his wand, extinguishing the orb of light before they headed out.

They wandered the corridors for a while, getting lost pretty quickly. Newt cursed suddenly, surprising Thomas. Six years he’d been going to this school and he was still getting lost. It was a bloody maze at night.

Suddenly a figure carrying a lantern emerged from around a corner ahead of them. Thomas reflexively grabbed Newt’s hand and yanked him, pulling the two of them behind a statue. They stood pressed together with baited breath as the figure of Filch hurried past them, wheezing and muttering to himself about students out of bed, Mrs Norris hot at his heels, heading in the direction of the Trophy Room. It was then that Thomas became painfully aware of exactly how close he was to the Gryffindor boy, and the latter seemed to appreciate the proximity too, if the red blush filling his face was any indication. Thomas took a risk then and leaned forward, a teasing smirk on his face.

“What’s the matter, Newt? You’re a bit red.” He said, grinning when Newt blushed even more.

“Slim it!” The other boy muttered defensively, trying to push Thomas away. Thomas decided then to test his theory and leaned in, whispering into the boy’s ear.

“Been looking at me in class and the corridors have you?” Thomas asked, a playful smile on his face. Newt looked like a mortified tomato, red and defensive and shocked. He cursed again.

“How’d you know?” He asked with wide eyes.

“Well, for one, you just confirmed it.” Newt snarled and muttered something that sounded like, ‘Bloody Slytherins and their tricks.’ Thomas grinned. “That and Minho saw you doing it.”

Newt cursed and tried to push past Thomas, but Thomas grinned and pushed him against the statue again, grinning like a predator who had its prey trapped. Newt’s eyes flicked from Thomas’s eyes to his lips.

“You’ve gone even redder.” Thomas said. “That’s interesting.”

Newt snarled again before he reached up and grabbed Thomas by the collar, yanking him down and crashing his lips against Thomas’s own. The Slytherin blinked in surprise for a moment before he hungrily returned the kiss, pressing the small Gryffindor against the statue.

They separated desperately breathless when they heard loud footsteps approaching and looked fearfully at each other, their faces blotched red. They waited in silence until Filch hurried past them again, accompanied by a sore-looking, bruised but fully conscious Gally and a sour-looking, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Snape.

“It wasn’t me!” Gally protested angrily. “It was Thomas! That shank attacked me!”

“Be silent.” Snape said, his voice deceptively calm and cold. Thomas and Newt risked a smirk at each other. “You were found alone in the Trophy Room surrounded by several damaged and irreplaceable trophies.”

“But it wasn’t me, Professo—!” Gally started.

“—You are already facing detention with Mr Filch for an evening. Do not make me extend it to a week.” Snape said, cutting Gally off with a cold look. Thomas grinned again. He knew Snape would believe him over Gally. Thomas’s reputation was entirely unblemished and untarnished, whereas Gally was the first suspect for anything.

The two waited until the voices had long since faded before they stepped out from behind the statue, the redness fading from their faces but the smirks still present. Newt glanced at the statue and a look of recognition crossed his face.

“I know this statue,” he said, “I can make my own way back from here.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to accompany you?” Thomas teased, his grin widening. 

“Don’t push your luck, shank.” Newt said before he leaned forward and kissed Thomas once more: a quick, innocent kiss. “G’night, Thomas.”

Newt turned and hurried away them. Thomas watched him go before he called after him.

“See you first thing tomorrow in Transfiguration!” He yelled and then flinched. If Snape found him he’d definitely be doing detention with Gally. Even from the distance he was at, he could see the redness filling Newt’s skin. Thomas risked a laugh before he too turned and hurried off in what he hoped was the general direction of the dungeons and his common room.

*****

He found his way and after a short while he was ducking through into his common room, finding an anxious-looking Minho waiting for him.

“Where the shuck have you been?!” Minho asked, prodding Thomas in the chest with a finger. “It’s been well over an hour!”

Thomas grinned sheepishly and Minho narrowed his eyes. Thomas raised his hands in surrender before he dived into his tale, telling Minho how it had been Gally who sent the note and Newt who had rescued him. He left out the parts after.

“So Snape got Gally?” Minho asked. Thomas nodded. “Good. That slinthead deserves it. Just one question though.”

“What?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.

“When were you going to tell me the two of you kissed?” Minho blurted out and Thomas choked, the smile wiped cleanly off his face. How had Minho known? “Oh come off it you shank, you expect me to believe nothing else happened? I might be a bit stupid sometimes but I’m no troll.”

Thomas blushed and stood up, choosing to ignore Minho. He yawned widely then and headed towards his dormitory and his four poster bed waiting for him.

“Is a certain Gryffindor going to be sitting with us in Potions and Transfiguration now?” Minho called after him with glee in his voice.

“Slim it, Minho!” Thomas yelled back at him.


End file.
